Get a Flu
by Kooro
Summary: When Mary finds out that Marshall is at home with the flu, she goes over to offer a helping hand and an occasional teasing. Plenty of comedy and... grapes?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know why, but I had a sudden desire to right about our favorite Marshall Mann getting sick. I actually think this is bad luck, or joojoo, or whatever since I'm going on an extended, expensive trip to China soon. I'd hate to get sick on such a trip so I wanted to finish this as soon as possible in case I can reverse any jinx I placed upon myself.**

**Anywho, I had a lot of fun with this fanfic. It may even be one of my best. Hope you enjoy. **

**As always, I love you feedback and comments. I really do. They're what keep me writing sometimes. ^_^**

**Oh, time for a random comment: I HAVE ABSOLUTELY FALLEN IN LOVE WITH TRANSFORMERS. EVERYTHING TRANSFORMERS. I'M TOTALLY AND HAPPILY OBSESSED WITH IT. ESPECIALLY BUMBLEBEE. HE'S SO CUTE!**

**Now that that's out of the way, on to the story. Enjoy.**

Get a Flu

**Chapter 1:**

Mary had lost count of how many times she had looked up from her work to stare at the empty desk across from her. In the end, it didn't matter if she had counted or not because the outcome was still the same: Marshall was not there.

Mary glared at the empty desk as if her threatening stare would force the desk to reveal her hidden partner. As if he would pop out from underneath with that stupid grin glued to his face as he laughed at her for worrying about him.

Mary shook her head and looked away haughtily. She wasn't worried. Why should she be worried? It wasn't like her partner was laying face-down in a ditch somewhere or anything. He was too careful. Plus, if Marshall was in trouble, he would call. Wouldn't he? But what if he had been kidnapped like she had been? What if he was locked in a basement with a madman waving a gun around like it was a piece of licorice at this very moment?

Again, Mary's gaze shifted up to her partner's desk; her worry becoming harder to conceal. No, no, no. She had her own problems to worry about. Mary forced her eyes to settle back on the rising pile of paperwork on her own desk. She had several witnesses asking for money and job opportunities and several more complaining about lack of money and job opportunities as well as demands for better living accommodations.

Trying to focus on her work rather than the lack of company in the room, Mary picked a random slip of paper from the pile and started to read it.

_Dear Mary Shannon,  
This is Shelley Finkle. Mr. Mann has informed me that calling to talk to you personally would not be an efficient method to reach you seeing as you never pick up your phone. He did, however, suggest that I write you. I'm sure you'll get this letter eventually and Mr. Mann has also informed me that he frequently checks your trash to ensure that no important documents – or in the case, letters – get thrown away.  
Now, the reason I'm writing to you is to tell you that I think it's about time to meet up again and talk about how you are doing. I've told you before how these meeting let me know how you're doing emotionally and I've told you before how these meeting let me know how you're doing emotionally and - _

Mary blinked, realizing that she had dazed and read the same sentence twice. She put down the letter, unable to concentrate hard enough to allow the words to take meaning in her mind. She looked up once more and her gaze automatically locked onto the empty desk of Marshall Mann.

She heard the sound of the clock on the far wall ticking away the seconds and realized just how quiet it really was without Marshall in the room with her. She never realized just how much she liked the sound of his fingers as he fiddled with the papers on his desk or the sound of his keyboard merrily tapping away. Hell, she even missed the humming noise he made when he was writing a dissertation for a witness. Strange. She never realized just how much she enjoyed Marshall's company until it was gone. It was just too damn quiet.

The silence was suddenly blasted away by the sound of the metallic door opening. Mary snapped her head in the direction of the noise and saw Stan walk in.

"Stan," Mary breathed with relief. "Thank God."

Stan looked up at Mary quizzically before shifting his gaze away nervously and slipping out of his jacket. "I don't think you'll be thanking anyone by the time I give you your two-tens," Stan replied.

Mary didn't even cringe. She was already up and out of her chair, making her way over to Stan at one level below a trot.

"What? Oh. Whatever, I'll do those later," Mary said, clearly proving that she hadn't heard a word of what Stan had just said. Instead, she got down to the point. "Where's Marshall?"

Stan met Mary's waiting gaze with a quizzical one before a thin smile spread over his lips. He nonchalantly hung his jacket on the coat rack and ambled towards the coffee machine; Mary right on his heels like a dog waiting for its master to give it a treat.

"Now why would you worry yourself about Marshall?" Stan asked casually, knowing full-well that he held the winning hand. "Can't trust him by himself?"

"I'm not worried!" Mary countered, a little too quickly… and loudly. She sobered immediately. "I just want to know where he is. Who else is going to rescue my mail from the trash?"

Stan grimaced. "Found out did you?"

"From a letter that's going through the shredder," Mary remarked coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Stan nodded with a slight shrug. "That might not work. Marshall's pretty persistent. Plus, he has the tape."

"Well then I'll –" Mary began "– No, nevermind. Just tell me where he is."

"All right," Stan said, knowing he couldn't keep his cards a secret for long. He's poker face was terrible. "He called in sick. He's taking the day off."

"Sick?" Mary asked with complete astonishment. "Marshall?"

"That's what he said," Stan confirmed, taking a sip of his coffee and moving towards his office.

"The slacker," Mary hissed under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm taking my lunch break now."

"Lunch? It's only 10:15."

But Mary was already gone, her paperwork left unattended at her desk, and the elevator doors sliding to a close.

Stan chuckled with a shake of his head. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed a number and held the device to his ear.

"Hello?" a female's voice answered.

"Eleanor," Stan said, "its Stan. Listen, there's been a change of plans. I'm going to need you to come into work today… Why?... Well, it seems as if both my inspectors have caught the flu."

**---**

**I derived the title from the show "Get a Clue". Just one of those play on words like the actual IPS episode titles. I thought it was clever. But it doesn't really mean anything. Oh well.**

**Well then since I want to get this done before my trip, I'll be posting again soon.**

**Until next time,  
Hobey-Ho**


	2. Chapter 2

**Told ya I'd post quickly. **

**Well, here's chapter two. I'm glad to see that you're enjoying this already. **

**Thanks to KIRA66 and PAPILLONGIRL for your comments. They made me smile. ^_^**

**Well, don't wait for me. Go on and keep reading!**

Get a Flu

**Chapter 2:**

Mary kept one hand on the steering wheel of her car and fished her cell phone out of her pant pocket with the other. She couldn't wait to get to Marshall's house. She had to yell at him now. She applied more pressure to the gas pedal – the streets were empty for the most part since most people were working at there jobs, unlike someone – and waited for the other end to pick up on her phone.

There was a click and then, "Hello?" The voice was weak and sounded as if the owner had just woken up.

"You doofus," Mary spat. "How the hell could you get sick?"

"Oh, good morning Mary." There was a yawn. "How can I help you?"

"You can start by explaining why you're sick," Mary shot back mercilessly.

"Well, it seems I've caught the Acute Viral Rhinopharyngitis, also know as the Acute Coryza. It's a contagious, viral infectious disease of the upper respiratory system, primarily caused by rhinoviruses – or the picornaviruses – or coronaviruses. I most likely obtained it by –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mary interrupted, "Just get to the point and give me a translation, Marshall."

"I caught the common cold," Marshall replied in a bored tone, as if the diluted answer was far less interesting than his previous response, "most likely due to the fact that I haven't been getting much sleep lately and I've been dragged to places that were pretty cold."

"Save it for the pity party," Mary said apathetically. "The same things have been happening to me, but _you_ seem to be the only one who's sick."

There was a heavy sigh, one Mary had heard countless times before. "I apologize for my lack of immunity," Marshall said sarcastically, "but if all you're going to do is reprimand me for getting sick, then I think I'll just go back to sleep."

"Don't bother," Mary ordered. "I'm already here."

Without another word or the patience to hear what her partner had to say about her abrupt arrival, Mary was out of her car and walking up to Marshall's front door. She listened before knocking. Sure enough, the distant sounds of flustered movement wafted to her ears. She couldn't help but smirk at her partner's discomfort. Of course, he had been sleeping and she had woken him up. She may have gone a little too far. Marshall _was_ sick after all.

Oh well.

Mary rapped her fist against the door loudly. There was another cacophony of movement and then the door creaked open.

"Good morning sunshine," Mary said with a beaming smile; words dripping with sweetness. "You look like hell."

Marshall was leaning against the doorframe, clad only in his pajama bottoms with the tiny planes on them and a white tanktop damp at the collar with sweat. He did look pretty bad. His face was pale with beaded sweat stuck to his brow, his damp hair was in disarray, and his legs were trembling slightly as if they could barely hold up his weight. He seemed oddly frail against the solid and straight doorframe. His usual vigor and pride had diminished considerably. He really was sick.

"What are you doing here?" Marshall asked groggily, gazing down at Mary with drooping eyes.

"I just came to check up on my partner," Mary said, chirping with mock-cheerfulness as she slipped past Marshall to enter his house. "Can't hold that against me, can you?"

Her only answer was a heavy sigh as Marshall closed the door and stumbled after her as she walked into his living room.

"If you just came to brighten my day with your sarcasm, you can just leave," Marshall said without a hint of malice – although slight annoyance – as he flopped down onto his couch.

Mary watched him uneasily. In truth, she did come by to check up on Marshall. It wasn't like him to get sick. Seeing as he knew every little trivial fact about the causes and effects of a sickness, she figured he took every precaution to avoid it. But maybe he just couldn't mess with fate that way and now he was paying the price.

But that didn't mean she couldn't tease him a bit.

"Aww, you don't have to be so mean Mr. Snuggles," Mary cooed as she moved to stand in front of Marshall. "Honest, I just came by to check on you." She grinned down at him evilly.

Marshall chuckled meekly but it turned into a fit of coughs and he doubled over, pressing his hand to his mouth as tremors racked his body with each cough.

Mary's smile vanished.

"Hey," she said, concern mingling with the word, "Are you ok?" She bent down slightly, her hand hovering over Marshall's back. But she pulled back as his fit ended and he straightened.

"Yeah," he croaked as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Don't lie to me Marshall," Mary said with a serious tone.

Marshall opened hazy eyes. His beautiful sapphires gleamed dully as they met Mary's gaze.

"I'm sick, Mary," he replied with equal seriousness. "Of course I'm not ok. I feel horrible."

Mary didn't reply. There wasn't anything to say. Sensing no further response from his partner, Marshall closed his eyes and sank limply into the couch with a sigh. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing and that was all that moved.

Marshall really was sick. Mary wondered why that logic sank into her mind only now. The poor guy was suffering and she was merely adding fuel to the fire. Well, the least she could do was help, even if all that meant was getting him back to bed. Maybe she could even give him some medicine. Surely he had something he could take that would help.

"Hey, Marshall," Mary said softly, reaching out a hand for Marshall. She placed her fingers on his cheek but quickly drew back in surprise as her fingertips burned. She stared in horror at her partner.

"Marshall," she said, louder this time. She placed her palm over his forehead and felt the heat of his fever seep into her hand. "You're burning up."

"Hmm?" Marshall moaned. His eyes remained closed.

"Come on, Marshall," Mary said as she grabbed Marshall's arm and pulled him forward. "Let's get you back in bed."

Marshall's brow knitted in discomfort as he groaned incoherently. Mary knelt down and slipped Marshall's arm over her shoulders. Keeping Marshall's arm clutched in one hand, Mary placed her free hand on Marshall's back.

"Ready?" she asked. Marshall didn't answer.

"Ok," Mary said and stood up, dragging Marshall up with her. He groaned in protest but managed to stand without placing too much weight on Mary. She walked forward and Marshall moved with her. His head lolled to the side but when he found no support to rest his head against – Mary was just a head shorter than he was – he lifted his head and his eyes fluttered open.

"What are you doing now?" he asked with tired annoyance.

"Taking you to bed," Mary answered through gritted teeth. Even though Marshall's full weight wasn't pulling her down, she still found him to be somewhat heavy.

"That's interesting," Marshall sighed. "You see, I would still be _in_ bed if someone hadn't rudely invited themselves over."

"You'll be fine," Mary countered with a wry smile. "If you can still be sarcastic, you can't be that sick."

"You'd be surprised," Marshall said but the end of his sentence ended in another fit of coughing. Mary had to stop and wait for the coughing to calm before moving again. Marshall lapsed into silence.

It took a little longer than she would have liked, but Mary and Marshall finally made it to the bedroom. Mary stopped in the doorway to take a quick break and examine the room. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the bed was unmade with sheets clotted in bundles at the foot of the bed and sliding down onto the floor.

"Jeezes. And here I thought you were the OCD one," Mary said at the appalling sight of the disorganized room. Marshall had always been one for organization and neatness. "You must really be sick."

"Didn't I already… tell you that?" Marshall said between heavy gasps.

Mary shrugged. "Guess I missed that part."

Marshall managed a dry chuckle but nothing more.

Mary chose a safe path to the bed and made her way towards it, bringing Marshall with her. There was no time to fix the bed sheets so that Marshall could sleep comfortably in them, so Mary left them where they were. She eased Marshall onto the bed and he leaned back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. Mary helped him lift his legs onto the bed and then she tugged the blankets over him until she was satisfied that he was covered enough. She reached over him and propped the pillows up so that his head could rest in a more comfortable position.

Stepping back with a sigh, Mary examined her work. It wasn't perfect but at least Marshall looked comfortable.

"Mare?" Marshall asked quietly.

"Yeah?" Mary was at his side in an instant, kneeling down on the floor beside him to make sure she heard every word. "Do you need anything?"

Marshall shook his head slowly. He opened his eyes and focused them hazily on Mary. "Thanks," he said with a sincere smile. Then his eyes closed and he slipped into sleep with a content sigh.

Mary was left sitting on Marshall's bedroom floor in silence. No, not silence. She could hear Marshall's breathing; the soft rustle of sheets as his moving chest disturbed the blankets. His occasional murmur and slight cough.

Mary liked the sounds. They were better than the monotonous ticking of the clock at work. But she couldn't stay and listen to them yet. She still had things to do.

---

**Aww, poor Marshall… and yet, I couldn't resist.  
**

**I wanted to make him look like how he did in Episode 4 of Season 1 with the tanktop, unkept hair and all. He looked so hot like that – only now he's wearing little airplanes. Even better I say! **

**Stay turned. There's still more.**

**Until next time,  
Hobey-Ho**


	3. Chapter 3

**Next chapter up and running. Thanks for all the hits. It's been a while since I've had fun with such a fanfic. I can only hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am. ^_^**

**Well then, first I'd like to give my thanks to some faithful readers:**

**MARSHALLMANNFAN, thanks so much for your comment. It made me laugh at loud. I still like to re-read it. **

**Thanks again to PAPILLONGIRL for another great comment. I look forward to more.**

**And of course, a thanks to IDEOMANIA and I hope you stick with the show. It really is great and, you're right, there's never to many MxM scenes. **

**With my gratitude properly expressed, on to the story!**

Get a Flu

**Chapter 3:**

As quietly as possible so as to not stir her partner from sleep, Mary rose to her feet and started picking up the clothes that had fallen unceremoniously to the floor. She placed them in a pile beside Marshall's dresser; unsure of where else to put them. She straightened up his room a little more and then entered the kitchen.

Quietly, she retrieved a medium-sized bowl from the cabinets and filled it up with water from the sink. She grabbed a rag off a towel rack and returned to Marshall's room to place the bowl and rag on the desk beside the bed.

She gazed down at Marshall sympathetically before leaving once more to get a glass of cool water from the fridge and a small bowl of grapes in case Marshall woke up hungry. Lastly, she rummaged around in his bathroom in search of cold medicine. Finding an unopened box of cold medicine tablets – never opened because Marshall never got sick, not until now anyway – Mary took her entities back into Marshall's room. She dropped her load beside the bowl and then looked to the bed to check on Marshall.

Sparkling sapphires met her gaze.

"Sorry," Mary recited automatically, "did I wake you?"

Marshall shook his head. His gaze was locked on hers.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

Marshall shook his head again.

"Thirsty?"

Another shake of the head.

Mary sighed. "Ok. But take this anyway." She fished a table out of the medicine box. "Here." She placed it in Marshall's hand.

He popped the pill into his mouth and Mary handed him the glass of water. He took it with a shaking hand and Mary placed her hand over his to steady it. Marshall tried to lift his head to swallow but didn't have to strength to. Mary slid her hand under his head and lifted it for him. He put the glass to his lips and, with Mary's help, tilted it so that the cool water sloshed into his mouth. He swallowed the pill and then took two more thirsty gulps before moving the glass away and leaning against Mary's hand to show that he was finished. She took the glass back and removed her hand from behind Marshall's head.

"Thanks," he croaked in a rustic voice.

"Sure," Mary answered with a small smile.

Marshall watched Mary's hand as she returned the glass to the nightstand. His glazed eyes slid over the objects but focused on the grapes. A sly smile brightened his features.

"Grapes?" he asked.

"In case you get hungry," Mary explained.

His smiled grew more mischievous. "You gonna feed them to me?" he asked with some difficulty.

Mary blanched then released a curt laugh. "Are you kidding?" she snorted. "You're a big boy. You can feed yourself."

Marshall's grin didn't fade although his eyes took a longer time to open with every blink. He coughed sarcastically, weakly lifting his hand to cover his mouth. "Too weak," he moaned.

"Yeah right," Mary chastised. "You can't fool me with that BS sick attitude of yours."

Despite her words, Mary felt compelled to pick a grape out of the bowl and hang it teasingly in front of Marshall's face. He scowled mockingly at her.

"Unless you really want it," she teased in a singing voice.

In response, Marshall opened his mouth, as if daring her to do as he had requested. Mary's grin flickered uncertainly.

"You bastard," she said between gritted teeth. But she lost the battle of wills. Slowly, she lowered the grape closer to Marshall's lips, and then, dropped it into his mouth. He closed his mouth with a triumphant snap and chewed greedily on the grape; all the while staring at Mary with a prideful smirk.

"For the record, you looked like a fish," Mary snapped back.

Marshall swallowed with a chuckle and settled more comfortably in his bed.

"Anything else your majesty?" Mary asked scornfully.

Marshall shook his head; his smile fading as his eyes drifted closed. Mary waited at his side for a while longer to see if he woke up and was in need or anything. When his breathing deepened, she knew he had fallen into sleep. It may have been a trick of her ears, but his breathing sounded stronger.

Mary moved to grab the towel off the nightstand and dipped it in the bowl of water. She wrung it so as to not soak Marshall any more than he already was and placed the cool towel on his forehead. He murmured in content as the water quenched his fever. Mary smiled in approval.

"You're going to be fine," she assured, talking more to herself than to Marshall.

She settled on the floor beside him, leaning her side against the side of the bed so that she could look at Marshall's face. He seemed peaceful enough. At least, better than he had before.

Self-consciously, Mary extended one hand to tousle Marshall's hair with her fingers. It didn't take long for her casual play to turn into a gentle caress as she gently slid her fingers through his hair. Marshall murmured something in his sleep and pressed his face closer to Mary's hand so that she could trail her fingertips along his cheek.

She smiled at him.

Already feeling the effects of kneeling on the floor, Mary plucked the towel off of Marshall's forehead and moved it lightly over his features to wipe away any sweat. She rinsed the towel in the bowl of water and returned it to Marshall's head.

She settled herself more comfortably beside the bed and tucked her arms under her head to rest on the bed. She knew that by the time she moved to get up, her legs would be completely numb. But she didn't care. She didn't want to leave Marshall's side.

Watching Marshall sleep was actually making her pretty tired and before long she found herself yawning.

"A quick nap couldn't hurt right?" she asked to no one in particular.

With a sigh, she nestled her head against her folded arms but released one hand to snake away towards her partner's hand. Careful so as to not disturb Marshall from his sleep, she slid her hand into his and grasped it gently. To her surprise, Marshall's hand closed around hers.

A clock in the living room rang with the next hour. It chimed twelve times before falling silent with the rest of the house.

"Good afternoon, doofus," Mary smiled before slipping off to sleep to join her partner.

---

**One more chapter to go. I'll definitely post it tomorrow. Looking forward to it. **

**I really had fun with the grapes scene. Not sure how I thought of it but I'm glad I did. I warned you about the grapes in the synopsis you know. Bet you weren't expecting me to use them like this though huh? Oh, I feel so deviant today. Must be from the chocolate chip pancakes I ate. Nothing like a sugar-rush to keep me rambling. Sorry 'bout that ^_^**

**Thanks for all the support, even the voiceless ones.**

**Until next time,  
Hobey-Ho**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here it is, right on time, as promised: the conclusion to the fanfic. Hope you enjoy it because I had a hell of a good time writing it. ^_^**

**As always, I'd like to thank some supportive and faithful readers:**

**Thank you to IDEOMANIA for your thank you and you compliment. It really does mean a lot.**

**And a thanks to POLLYCRACKERS for loving an unkempt Marshall as much as I do ^_^**

Get a Flu

**Chapter 4:**

Light bombarded Mary's closed eyes. She gave a start as the comforting darkness of sleep was shredded by the intruding light. She opened her eyes blearily to see that a streak of bright sunshine had conveniently filtered through a window to splash merciless against Mary's face.

She groaned in protest and pulled the blankets over her head in an effort to ward of the sunlight. She snuggled against the warm bedding and was prepared to drift back to sleep when a thought popped into her head.

_When did I get into bed?_

The question forced her awake and she peeled back the blankets. The sun hit her with her shield gone. She shied away and closed her eyes tightly. She turned onto her side so that the sun could warm her back instead of fry her retinas.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was her hand clenched in a weak fist. She opened it, wondering if she had sub-consciously been holding onto something. It was empty although she could have sworn that she had been holding something earlier. Something warm.

Mary looked past her hand and her eyes widened in shocked surprise.

This wasn't her room.

Which meant only one thing…

This wasn't her bed.

Mary practically flew out of the bed, landing gracelessly on the floor with a loud _thunk_ as her foot caught in the disheveled sheets and sent her tumbling head over heel. It was no longer just an expression. She actually tumbled out of the bed and across the floor to smack headfirst into a dresser, sending the contents on top to come showering down upon her. Mary shielded her hea as best as she could. There was a cacophony of sound as a variety of objects and trinkets collided against Mary and shattered on the ground. Luckily, there was no glass but the action did cause quite a ruckus.

Nothing hit her hard enough to cause serious injury but it was still quite a surprise.

Before the clatter could calm around her, she heard another sound that was becoming increasing closer, and quickly. It sounded like footsteps running across a wooden floor.

And sure enough, the owner of the footsteps skidded into view; grabbing the door frame to prevent from sliding across the floor. A frantic face targeted on Mary and stared at her with wide eyes.

Wide eyes sparkling like the deepest ocean or the most precious sapphire.

"Mary," Marshall sighed in pure relief, relaxing visibly as he sagged against the doorframe.

"Marshall?" Mary asked, her mind still moving slower than she would have liked due to her abrupt – and rather shocking – awakening. "What are you doing here?"

Marshall released another sigh as a relieved smile crossed his face. He shook his head sadly with a chuckle. "Don't scare me like that," he said, brushing his fingers through his hair.

He pushed off the doorframe and walked across the floor to stand before Mary, his condescending smile still making his eyes sparkle. She watched him, mouth stupidly agape, as he bent down to kneel in front of her.

"Hate to break it to you," he said sympathetically, "but I live here."

That single fact processed in Mary's mind and then everything clicked; coming together like a puzzle.

She remembered coming over to Marshall's house to take care of him while he was sick. But he didn't look sick anymore. He didn't look sick at all. In fact, there was no lingering proof that he had ever been sick.

He sat on his knees with renewed strength and a straight back. The color was back in his face and his brow was dry. His hair was also dry and had been combed back into his usual style. He had changed into a more refined attire – and more mature with the absence of tiny planes – with a fresh black tanktop and loose jeans that nearly swallowed his bare feet.

"You don't have to look so surprised," Marshall laughed aloud. "You didn't think I'd be sick forever did you?"

Mary wasn't quite sure how to respond. So she just stared open-mouthed at Marshall. She really wasn't a morning person. And the quick succession of happenings since her awakening was still processing. Like, how she ended up in Marshall's bed in the first place. From what she could dimly recall, she had been sitting on the floor. She didn't sleep with him did she?

"What… happened?" she asked uneasily as her stomach churned anxiously.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Marshall asked quizzically. His eyes performed a quick examination of Mary's current condition and then trailed back to the bed. A wry smile slid across his lips. "Oh."

Mary almost glared at him. Almost.

"Don't worry," Marshall said reassuringly, waving his hands in a sign of innocence. "Nothing happened. When I woke up, you were sleeping on the floor. I just put you in bed so you could sleep and not wake up with a stiff back. That's all."

At Mary's suspicious stare, Marshall smiled sincerely. "I promise."

Mary released a sigh heavy with relief. "Good," she grunted, adjusting herself out of her jump-and-run position on the floor. She leaned back against the dresser and appraised Marshall with scrutinizing eyes.

"Well, glad to see that you're no longer a sleeping zombie," Mary scoffed, trying to regain some dignity even though she was surrounded by a litter of trinkets and still sitting on the floor. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to get up now. I think I'm sitting on something and it's becoming a real pain in the ass."

"Literally," Marshall finished for her smugly.

"You doing a good job of taking its place," Mary snapped.

Marshall shrugged with a chuckle and rose to his feet. He extended a hand down to Mary and she took it without a shred of hesitance. With seemingly little effort, Marshall pulled Mary up from the ground and onto her feet. She swayed for a moment before straightening with a calm composure.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Marshall replied nonchalantly. "Now let's see the victim."

"What?" Mary asked, but Marshall was already picking up one of the trinkets off the floor. A trinket placed near the spot where Mary was sitting. He lifted it up for Mary to see.

"Hey," she shot back. "I'm the victim here. If it wasn't for this elf, I wouldn't have – "

"He's not an elf," Marshall interrupted. "He's a Vulcan and he has a name: Spock. Well, he's half Vulcan. His father married a human woman so Spock is also half human. He served on the USS Enterprise under the command of – "

"Marshall," Mary interrupted before things could get worse. "He's just a toy."

"This is more than a toy," Marshall said, offended. "He's a limited edition collectible. Do you know how long I had to wait in line for this?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Suddenly, a new scent wafted to Mary's nose. She inhaled deeply and her mouth immediately started to salivate. Her stomach rumbled eagerly at the delicious smell.

"What's that," she asked dreamily.

Marshall followed her gaze and sniffed the air. Realizing what it was, he gave a start and a curt stream of curses under his breath.

"That's breakfast," he answered. "And it's burning."

Without warning, he pushed the Spock collectible into Mary's hands and sprinted out of the room and down the hall. Left alone once again, Mary looked down at the Vulcan in her hands.

"I still say you're an elf," she said and tossed Spock back onto the dresser. Then she trailed after Marshall, or rather, the smell that he had followed.

The scent led her to kitchen where she saw Marshall frantically trying to cool a frying pan with unknown contents with his hand. Two other pans were simmering on the stove, popping and crackling with a delectable sound.

Marshall sensed that he was no longer alone and glanced over his shoulder to see Mary. He offered her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he said, moving the pan to the cool countertop. "I was able to save most of it but the edges got a little burned. Hope you don't mind you omelets crispy."

"Omelets?" Mary asked, stepping closer to peer into the pans.

"Yeah, and pancakes and bacon," Marshall replied, flipping a pancake and rotating the bacon expertly at the same time.

The smell was absolutely amazing. The combined scents of buttered pancakes, crispy bacon, and the omelet stuffed with what looked like peppers, ham, and some other green ingredient created a symphony of smells. It even sounded good. The bacon spitting grease and frying angrily next to the bubbling pancakes. Toast popped from a toaster beside the completed omelet and the butter, jam, and syrup were already at the table complete with plates and silverware.

_Wait a minute._

Mary had to push through the inviting smells of cooking food – actual home-made food – to focus. Marshall was making what looked like a breakfast banquet. And the sun was gleaming brightly in the windows.

"What time is it?" Mary asked.

As if on cue, the clock in the living room chimed ten times.

Marshall tilted his head to listen. "Sounds like ten o'clock," he answered coyly before turning back to scrape the cooked bacon onto a plate.

"Of the next day?" Mary asked.

"Seeing as it's about the same time as when you first entered my front door, I'd have to say yes. It's the next day."

"Don't be a smartass," Mary hissed with annoyance.

"Ok, let's just say you slept though a day. You came in the morning of yesterday and now it's morning of the next day: today. And I am currently making breakfast since I woke up around nine and was starving. I figured you would be too so I made plenty. Guess we both needed the extra sleep huh?"

Marshall flipped the last pancake onto a plate stacked high with fluffy pancakes and took both the plate of pancakes and the bacon to the table. An omelet had already been prepared and was waiting to be eaten on a plate stationed before a chair. Marshall placed the second – considerably crispier – omelet on the plate across from Marshall's seat.

"Any other questions?" he asked as he put the pans in the sink and wiped his hands clean against his jeans.

"Now you're just being an ass," Mary replied.

Marshall grinned at her and moved to the table. He stopped at Mary's designated chair and pulled it out for her.

"If you're finished insulting the gracious cook, breakfast is ready."

Mary didn't need any other prompting. She eagerly took her seat in the chair and waited anxiously for Marshall to sit in his own chair. He passed her a gallon of orange juice to fill the empty glass beside her plate. She didn't bother. She picked up her knife and fork and dug into the omelet.

Marshall watched her for a moment as she scarfed down the omelet and reached for the pancakes and bacon. Delicious.

Satisfied that his cooking was sufficient enough for Mary's tastes, Marshall started eating his own omelet although his gaze didn't stray far from Mary. He smiled at her excitement.

"Hey," he said suddenly, distracting Mary from the pancake lathered in syrup on her plate.

"Yeah?" she asked, all annoyance gone now that Marshall had served her a banquet.

"Thanks for all your help," he smiled. "I'm really grateful for you taking care of me."

Mary smiled back sincerely but then her grin turned malicious. "You owe me big time. And I don't mean buying me an occasional coffee."

"So cruel," Marshall sighed, never losing his smile. "How about I drive you back to work?"

"That's a good start," Mary said, feigning deep thought. "Next you can buy me a massage and a car tune-up."

"That's going a bit far isn't it?"

"Hey. You're not a light feather you know. I had to lug your Frankenstein of a body to bed. And I fed you a grape for chrissake."

"How 'bout this," Marshall bargained. "I'll wait on you hand-and-foot when you get sick."

"If I can get that in writing, it's a deal," Mary agreed with a coy smile.

Marshall laughed and the two continued their breakfast, enjoying the other's company to the fullest extent.

Until Mary sneezed.

---

**I'm sensing more… **

**Sequel anyone?**

**Of course, there's a sequel. But now it's Mary's turn to get sick and Marshall will be the innocent bystander to get caught in her affair. And she'll make him suffer. Bwahahaha. **

**Well, that's the end and completion of ****Get a Flu****. I hope you enjoyed it and keep an eye out for ****Get a Flu 2**** or whatever I'm going to call it. As I've said before, I had a lot of fun with this fanfic and I plan to make it even better when it's Mary's turn.**

**Oh, I still don't know Marshall's cooking experience but I always seem to make him out to be a masterful chef. That's just me. And I say it's all delicious.**

**Until next time,  
Hobey-Ho**


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